


Travel Buddies Ad'Gotar Edition [Smut]

by Asharion



Series: Travel Buddies [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Ad'Gotar, All the Smut, Begging, Blow Jobs, Consensual, Did I mention this is nothing but a collection of smut?, F/M, First Time, Funny Banter, Mando'a, Not all chapters are canon to the story though, Nothing but smut, Power Play, Romance, Sarah is not innocent, Sister-story to Travel Buddies, Smut, The knight in shiny armor gets lewded, They will be marked, Virgin Din Djarin, healthy relationship, helmet kink, not at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asharion/pseuds/Asharion
Summary: How am I choosing to celebrate the New Year? By posting glorious smut. You're welcome.This is a sister series to pair with the larger story Travel Buddies; because not everyone wants to read the delicious smutty details of a romance couple in a much larger plotline, so I've cleanly snipped any smut scenes out of the main story. They will appear here, instead.However... not all chapters of this story are cannon to that story - some are just little fun scenes inspired by it. They'll be marked ;PAd'Gotar = Mando'a word for "sex / sexy"
Relationships: Din Djarin / Sarah (OC), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Travel Buddies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085555
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	1. Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPEH NEW YEARS! Have some smut. Great way to kick off 2021.
> 
> \--
> 
> This chapter... I'm actually not certain if it is canon yet or not to the Travel Buddies story, but I had originally intended it to be. At the MOMENT, it is not. But to hell with it, I wanted to post it, because I love it.
> 
> It would take place sometime after Chapter 16, when Din and Sarah have finished their mission run.
> 
> Sarah low-key promised him a blow-job in chapter 13, during their adorable first kiss in the dark.
> 
> Din might have forgotten about it.

“So… About that celebration,” Sarah said abruptly, breaking into Din Djarin’s thoughts. They sat in the cockpit of the razor crest, Grogu sound asleep below in the sleeping chamber. A heavy repeating blaster-rifle was taken apart on Sarah’s lap that she worked on re-assembling. He’d shown her how to strip it down to clean it, and both were glad to purge the last of the Quarren’s fishy stench from their ship.

“What celebration?” he asked after a moment. _Scraan’ikase_ was over, and he still had a pleasantly full feeling from the multitudes of spicy dishes he’d eaten. Sarah had been determined not to forgive him for not warning her about the scorching nature of Mandalorian cuisine, but she’d lost her grudge after he’d made up for it by kissing her breathless.

He watched her now, and caught the change in her expression as she smiled slowly. He recognized that look.

“You know. The one you turned down the other night.”

He swallowed thickly. She’d been... serious?

“I…”

“If it’s too much, we don’t have to,” she added hastily, a blush on her cheeks as she dropped her gaze, and he worked his mouth, trying to find the words to speak. He was very out of his element when it came to… intimacy.

It was somewhat unnerving to be faced by her bald confidence, and yet, it was also reassuring. There was a certain kind of relief he found in knowing she had… experience. He had none.

It didn’t make it any easier to find the words to answer her, however.

“I’ve - Never… You don’t have to do that,” he finished lamely, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After a moment, he crossed a leg to hide the bulge that began to press at the fly of his trousers, mildly mortified she’d stirred his blood so easily.

She peeked up at him, and he watched as she slotted the barrel of her gun back into place, then slowly, _deliberately,_ ran her hand along its shaft as she held his gaze.

Din Djarin’s throat constricted.

This woman would be the death of him.

~*~

With his back to the wall and the lights out in the storage room, Sarah in his lap where he sat on the bench, Din Djarin decided that he very much liked the new course their relationship had taken.

Less so when she abruptly stopped grinding against him, and drove a strangled groan from his throat he couldn’t quite muffle. He’d been lost in the pleasure, not far away from release, and he burned for her touch.

Her lips were at his ear then, and she nipped him once before she spoke low and quiet, in the voice he _knew_ she knew undid his resolve.

“Put your helmet on and hit the lights. I want to see you,” she ordered.

He didn’t understand at first what she meant - how could she see him if he was fully clothed?

As she slid off his lap and the beskar metal was thrust against his chest, he dazedly complied, then jerked when her hands slid up the thick fabric of his pants from his calves, hot against the skin beneath.

The lights flicked on, and he looked down at where she knelt between his knees, a lazy smile on her face. It was at odds with the hungry, mischievous look in her bright, icy eyes.

“Sarah…”

A hand settled firmly over the closure of his pants, and his throat went dry. He watched, transfixed, as she started to work his clothes open. His heart pounded madly against his ribs, quick breaths turned shallow and hitched.

He almost stopped her as panic warred with reason, but there was nothing in her countenance that suggested she was uncomfortable with their situation, or what it was she clearly intended to do.

That she’d been the one to coax him into the storage room wasn’t lost on him, either.

She wanted this.

...and so did he.

“I thought you didn’t have a helmet kink,” he said finally, the silence unbearable as she moved _far too slowly._ Her delicate digits teased at the fabric of his pants, slipped each snap one at a time. He flexed his fingers, unsure where to put his hands as she settled herself more comfortably between his legs.

“It’s grown on me,” she teased. “But only if it’s yours.”

Fuck.

He growled, and she chuckled, and then she was slipping a warm hand inside his trousers. Din Djarin let his head fall back against the metal wall, and clenched his teeth against a deep-throated moan of pleasure he _really_ didn’t want to echo through the ship.

“Do you have any idea how erotic this is for me?” she continued. He looked down at her, lightheaded, and watched the scene of her spreading the fabric flap of his pants apart. She then reached to tug his undergarments down with one hand as her other shoved his shirt and belt padding out of the way. “I love to see you undone by my hand, shaking with need, desperate for my touch,” she murmured, then met his gaze and held it as she pulled his painfully hard erection free.

He opened his mouth to answer her, then had to shut it on a sharp, hitching breath as she closed her mouth over the head of his cock and stroked a hand down the thick shaft.

It was too much.

He jerked under her ministrations, and thought desperately of every single weapons model he could think of, determined not to come undone so embarrassingly fast. She’d barely started.

And he didn’t want her to stop.

When she chuckled, this time he felt it as it vibrated in her mouth around him, and he realized he’d buried his fingers in her hair. When had that happened?

He growled her name, and she stroked him, almost lazily, far too slow, her grip too loose.

“Harder,” he choked out, and was maddened when instead of complying, she swirled the tip of her tongue around the sensitive head of his member, then traced a single finger along his shaft. _“Sarah.”_

“Say please,” she asked sweetly, the warm heat of her mouth leaving him cold and wanting as she drew back to speak.

Anything, if it would get her to keep going.

~*~

_“Please,”_ he growled, and Sarah felt her stomach flip. This was far too much fun. She had wondered what he’d be like in this sort of situation; if he’d be a quiet or noisy lover, if he’d be attentive and eager, or demanding and dominant. She’d wondered if he’d have restraint, or if he’d crumble at the first touch. She’d never been with a virgin man before, and there was something distinctly empowering and endearing in knowing she would be setting the bar for this experience for him.

She wanted it to be a good one.

And she loved the way he growled her name, the way this powerful man she had witnessed the strength of willingly ceded control to her, trusting and yearing with desire for her touch, and her touch alone.

She liked to hear him beg for her, his hands shaking, muscles drawn taught and rigid as he restrained himself, as he struggled to maintain his composure, to not unravel completely before her.

She lowered her mouth back over the deliciously shaped cock of her lover, and enjoyed the way he hissed between clenched teeth, swallowing down the noises she’d love to hear him make. She tightened her grip and stroked him, slow and steady.

When she was certain he’d warmed up enough to the sensation to not lose himself entirely, she increased the pace, harder and rougher. His hips bucked into her hand, and she hummed her approval against him.

It didn’t take long before she felt the hard shaft of muscle she held begin to throb and pulse as his stomach contracted. His breaths had gone shallow and short, practically hyperventilating, and a strangled moan caught against his closed mouth. He’d lifted a hand up to his face as if to press it to his mouth - and with a helmet on, couldn’t. It lingered, caught in the air mid-gesture, fingers partially spread.

At the cruelest moment she drew back, and slowed the pace as she lazily sucked at the tip, easing him back from the edge as he swore vividly.

“Don’t stop,” he demanded breathlessly, limbs shaking. She loved the way he groaned as she drew completely back from him to free her mouth to answer.

“You’re not cumming until _I’m_ satisfied,” she declared, and the helmet tipped forward to stare at her. Though she wished she could see his face, there was a sort of… appeal, to the mystery it provided, and she’d meant it when she said it’d grown on her.

She definitely had a helmet kink now.

Getting the sense he was at a loss for words, Sarah fisted his cock and firmly stroked it, not too slow, and not too fast - just enough to keep him maddeningly close as she watched the way his chest heaved and his limbs fidgeted, pent up energy coiled tense with no outlet.

When he unraveled beneath her, he’d be seeing stars.

And that was just the way she wanted it.


	2. Conversations [Canon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the cut-out smut scene from Chapter Twenty-One, "Conversations", of Travel Buddies story.
> 
> Enjoy ;P

Din Djarin had no clear idea where this was going, but he was determined to find out. He ran his hands over the swell of Sarah’s hips, and listened to her soft breaths as he undid the snaps of her trouser’s short front panel. Her breathing stopped momentarily as he took his time to undo the hidden zipper.

In the shadows of the room, only a few shades brighter than ‘pitch black,’ he could barely make out the soft outline of her form. It was just enough to guide his hands as Din began to peel the fabric aside, and eased it down.

Sarah gasped quietly as he put his hands to bare skin, and traced the smooth curves as he reached around, exploring her body in the dark.

“Shirt. Off,” his lover demanded, and Din felt his lips twitch with a small smile. He pressed the flat of his first knuckles to the center of her stomach, then trailed them firmly downwards.

He liked the soft sound she made in response, the way her muscles flexed beneath his touch. He liked her muffled gasp as his hand slipped between her legs, and she hastily spread her thighs to grant him better access.

He liked how responsive she was to him; it made it much easier to assure himself he could meet her needs, could adequately participate in this exchange with her. He also liked how it made _him_ feel, to see Sarah like this.

Din’s fingers found the seam where the fabric of her shirt’s crotch-strap layered over itself, then popped the snaps one-by-one. The instant it fell open, Sarah’s hands reached down to yank her shirt up, and he was suddenly face-to-face with the dark shape of her panties against her pale skin. His eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting.

Din Djarin swallowed thickly. His hand dropped a fraction of an inch, uncertain how to proceed, even though he’d felt so confident just moments ago.

Fabric brushed his head as Sarah’s shirt was tossed aside, and then her fingers buried in his hair.

“Touch me,” she commanded breathlessly. Or perhaps she outright begged; it was hard to tell.

“Where?” Din rumbled, unable to look away. He wanted to touch her. _Everywhere._

She made a strangled noise of impatience, and then her hands pulled on his head and for a moment, Din lost the ability to breathe. And not just because she’d yanked his face against the flat of her stomach.

He loved the scrape of her nails against his scalp, and the newly familiar sensation of his hair being tugged on as Sarah fisted her fingers in it.

Maybe he wouldn’t buzz-cut it as short as he’d been planning to, after all.

He pressed firm kisses to her exposed belly, then trailed his mouth upwards as his hands slid along the expanse of her skin. As he rose from his crouch Sarah sighed, almost in disappointment, and his lips curved into a smile when it was quickly replaced by a pleased gasp as he slid a hand between her thighs and cupped the damp heat, then rubbed.

She shuddered as he pressed his bare chest flush against hers, and Din realized with a start that he wasn’t the only one completely stripped down to pants and socks. Ridiculously, some part of him had been expecting the friction of fabric; he had never seen Sarah without the chest-wrap she wore for a modest undergarment.

Her breasts were so _soft._

So were her lips, as she found his mouth in the dark and pressed herself against him with a hungry, needy passion he was more than willing to lose himself to.

When she reached down and slipped a hand past the hem of his beltline, he did.

~*~

Sarah wasn’t exactly certain when he’d gotten her pants the rest of the way off, but she loved the friction of the coarse weave of his trousers and her own underwear as she ground against the hard length of his covered erection. She had Din Djarin on the floor beneath her, his cape laid out as a scanty protection against the cold, hard metal, and his lips were hot and demanding as he clutched her to him.

She had folded the fabric of her chestwrap into a thin band and tied around her eyes, because Sarah didn’t trust herself not to accidentally peek. Not with her head so thoroughly and pleasantly clouded by desire, and her lover’s touch provoking her into involuntary responses. 

She’d never had a blindfold kink before, but it was quickly becoming one of her new favorite things.

“Too hard,” Din wheezed suddenly, and Sarah shifted her weight to ease some of the pressure off of him.

“Better?” she asked, and he grunted his approval.

When she resumed the grinding motion, she smirked against his lips as he uttered a strangled protest. She rubbed herself against him slowly, almost lazily, and Din’s hips thrust up beneath her to encourage more friction as if he couldn’t help himself.

The thought of how easy it would be to slip his cock free and seat herself on it had Sarah’s head spinning, but she had just enough clarity of mind to keep that thought in the realm of fantasy.

For now.

He swore as she drew back from him, and Din’s chest heaved beneath her as she trailed kisses down the length of his torso, blissfully devouring the expanse of skin.

All at once, Sarah had a desperate need to see what it was she felt. The glimpse she’d gotten of him the morning after he’d saved her life from hypothermia wasn’t nearly enough.

“Stay here,” she ordered, and felt his hands slide down her thighs as he let her sit up. She lingered for a moment, enjoying the sensation, then stood and turned away from him.

Mindful of her position, she lifted her blindfold up over one eye and peeked around the room until she found what she wanted.

Sarah heard her lover start to sit up behind her as she fetched his helmet off the bench, and counted her steps as she went. 

Blinded again, she carefully made her way back to Din until her foot bumped his hip, and she settled herself down over his lap again.

~*~

When Sarah finally moved off of him, for a split second, Din Djarin thought maybe he’d done something wrong. He caught his breath as he watched her walk, and felt a surge of uncustomary alarm as she picked his helmet up. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, a protest half-formed on the tip of his tongue.

An involuntary image had flashed in his head of her _wearing_ it, and he wasn’t sure if he felt mortified at the thought or... aroused.

The very idea was almost more intimate than what they were already doing.

Both, he decided, even as he recognized and acknowledged she clearly had other thoughts.

As Sarah settled herself back down on his hips, Din reached up to steady her descent, fingers splayed over the curve of her muscular thighs.

“Put it on,” she commanded, as the cool oval of his helmet settled against hot skin, and he swallowed thickly.

“...Why?” Din asked after a moment, his hands hesitant to leave her body as he traced slow circles with his thumbs.

He was mildly disturbed by the realization he didn’t _want_ to put it back on.

He wanted to kiss her.

“Because it’s _my_ turn to get an eyeful of your gorgeous body,” Sarah responded. He could just barely make out the playful smirk she wore, and Din Djarin sucked in a breath.

He could hardly deny her that.

He didn’t want to deny her anything to begin with, a feeling he was distinctly unused to, yet quickly growing familiar with.

So Din complied, even though he didn’t like the fact her scent was immediately lost to him when the respiration filter kicked to life as he settled his helm into place, or the fact he could now only see her through the flicker of his screen display.

“It’s on,” he told her, and watched as she eagerly reached for the blindfold she’d wrapped around herself. His gaze drifted to the metal splints on her arm as her fingers worked at the knot behind her head. He’d been worried of hurting her at first, especially after his foolish mistake in irritating the bruised burn beneath her jaw, but she’d assured him that their activity counted as ‘light duty’ as long as she wasn’t the one pressing him up against walls.

When the blindfold was abruptly draped over his visor, Din jolted.

“What--”

“My turn,” she whispered next to the earcap of his headgear, and he swallowed thickly. It occurred to him that she’d found a way to make things… a little more equal.

He liked that. He reached up to shut off the dimly lit display of his visor, and dropped his helmet into pitch black. The faintest glow suddenly intruded through the vertical bar of his viewing port as the lights in the room turned on, and Din found himself impressed she’d made note of what button on his vambrace controlled them.

He was also glad she hadn’t guessed wrong, and quickly decided he needed to teach her exactly what did what, so she didn’t end up doing something ridiculous like igniting his jetpack, changing the security protocols of the ship, altering his helmet displays, or even worse, send off a volley of _Whistling Birds_.

Once, the thought of that may have bothered him, made him chaff against revealing secrets closely guarded. Only now, it didn’t feel like a secret, but something more of himself that Din could share with her. Something that he _needed_ to share with her, to continue functioning as the effective team they were coming to be.

A soft click of metal sounded from nearby, as Sarah no doubt set the piece of his armor back down on the ground.

When her tongue unexpectedly touched his throat before she nipped at the skin, Din sucked in a sharp breath. The brush of her hands over his bare chest as she explored his torso sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, and relaxed into her touch.

Before long, the mood in the room shifted, and he realized that something in the way Sarah handled him had changed; this was more than purely sexual for her.

This was investigation.

The sensation of Sarah’s fingertips vanished entirely as she ran them along the scar of claw marks that stretched over his left shoulder and pectoral, then returned as she left the numbed, raised ridges of skin behind.

“Reptavian,” Din said, to answer her unvoiced curiosity. “From my first hunt. Didn’t go as planned.”

She stilled above him. Din Djarin slid a hand up her thigh, and followed it up the curve of her waist and side until he found her face, then brushed a thumb along her cheek.

“This one?” she asked after a moment, a hush to her voice. Her hand settled flush against his lower abdomen, just above his beltline, and Din took a deep breath.

“Bounty I collected on Tatooine. He and his buddies weren't happy to be found.”

“How long have you been a bounty hunter for?” Sarah wondered.

The thought occurred to him that this impromptu conversation should feel out of place considering their circumstances, yet Din found he didn’t mind.

He wanted her to know him, as so few did. He wanted her to know even what no one else knew, what he shared with none.

It only took a moment to do the quick math in his head.

“Twenty three years. I started not long after I earned my Warrior’s Mark.”

Sarah’s fingers traced the outline of the tattoo he knew to be on his right shoulder, and he occupied his own by tracing lazy circles over her skin, and explored the feel of her without the aid of sight to guide his touch.

“So you were… Twenty four, when you started?” she wondered.

“Yes.”

Din’s breath hitched as he felt her shift forward and lean down. He settled his hand on her upper back as Sarah moved, and then her lips pressed lightly against his shoulder in a chaste kiss that still managed to send heat shooting down to his loins.

It also brought a wash of indefinable emotion that rushed over his chest, made his head light and fuzzy, made it difficult to breathe.

As Din’s hands settled over her upper arms, he felt hers settled over his left wrist. Sarah guided his touch behind her back, and he felt the criss-crossing ridges of raised lines that marred her otherwise smooth skin.

“It was the first time someone found out I could meddle with their thoughts,” she revealed, as if no time had passed between his question weeks ago when he’d first seen them, and now as he felt the rough texture. “I often stole from a merchant by convincing him he’d already been paid. I think I was… Eighteen, maybe nineteen.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Din interrupted. He had not forgotten the look on her face, or the way she’d entirely shut down in those alarming moments between her pause at the door, and her quick exit.

He didn’t want her to feel obligated to reveal her secrets.

Even if by her own part in their Oath, she’d damned herself to share them.

 _Especially_ because of that.

“I want to,” Sarah admitted softly. “...But maybe later. Sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” she mused.

The thought of resuming their blissful activities was tempting, but not quite as tempting as the desire to talk with her.

Before he could voice that thought, her lips were at his throat, and her hands slid up his chest to his helmet. Din’s breath caught as he felt her thumbs hook under the edges.

“Can I?” she asked.

He swallowed thickly, then reached up to grab her wrists, momentarily robbed of speech. When he finally found his voice, he was embarrassed to find it an octave higher than normal.

“Not yet,” he blurted.

 _“Yet?”_ she questioned playfully.

“It’s…” Din cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “It’s-- Part of the... the marriage Rite.” He was badly fumbling the explanation, he knew, yet he didn’t know how better to explain.

“You know, most couples just have to worry about when they finally fuck, if they even wait for marriage for that. We get to worry about helmets.”

Din huffed softly. He could hear her humor, but some distant intuition told him she was incredibly flustered. Something in the way her voice wavered just the slightest bit, or maybe the way she shifted her weight, then went still above him.

When Sarah slid herself down his hips and settled over his diminished erection, Din choked on an involuntary grunt. He couldn’t see in his darkened helmet, but he felt every scorching inch of her bare skin against the thick fabric of his trousers, and he had never wanted so badly to strip himself bare.

“Speaking of fucking…” Sarah continued, mischief in her low, teasing murmur.

His arousal wasn’t so diminished anymore.

“We’re not--” his throat closed over the unfinished sentence even as she cut in to interrupt, anyways.

“I know. But you _did_ tell me I could play with it,” she reminded him. Din remembered. Vividly.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” he warned in a rough voice that cracked, even though he had no idea how to satisfy her in the same way.

He was willing to learn.

More than willing; he was determined. If he could make her feel a _fraction_ as good as she did him, Din was confident he could make her unravel for him.

“If I don’t tire you out first,” Sarah challenged, and then she was undoing the closure of his pants, and Din clenched his jaw on a needy moan as she confidently pulled his member free without further ceremony.

With her blindfold wrapped around his visor and the display screen shut off, Din Djarin couldn’t see what she was doing, and it made him that much more aware of her touch. Particularly when he was afforded the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensation of warm, moist heat as Sarah closed her mouth over the sensitive tip, and her tongue swirled around the head of his cock as she stroked him.

_“Fuck.”_

“That’s the idea,” she answered in a low purr, and against it all, Din felt a silent laugh shake his chest. It turned into a hoarse gasp when he felt Sarah put her lips and tongue to him again, and he got a very quick, and very _thorough,_ education on just how deep a cock could go into a woman’s mouth.

It was a struggle not to thrust his hips up into her like he instinctively wanted to, and the pleasure mingled with his half-blind panic over worrying he’d hurt her warred with Din’s restraint. The fingers of his left hand curled forcibly in the fabric of his cape, spread out on the floor beneath his bare back, while the other dug furrows into her bicep. Sarah hummed, and the vibration sent ripples of delightful sparks down his entire body.

~*~

“Relax,” Sarah murmured as she drew back, the scent of his arousal clouding her head and the taste of him strong on her tongue as she examined her lover. Din lay sprawled out on the floor in front of her, his scarred chest heaving as he struggled with all his might to hold perfectly still.

He’d caved partially - one leg had bent up, and the inside of his muscular thigh pressed against Sarah’s left shoulder as she slowly worked her hand up and down the slick shaft she held in hand.

“C-Can’t,” Din choked out. “Can’t... lose control.”

“You can move,” Sarah encouraged. “You’re not going to hurt me; I know exactly what I’m doing here. I’ve got my arm braced so _when_ you thrust, you won’t go too deep,” she explained, then emphasised her words by pressing her left forearm into his hip.

The idea of him losing control enough to jerk up into her mouth nearly made Sarah’s head spin, and she could feel the already warm, damp patch between her legs turn soaking wet.

The soft, needy, half-exasperated groan Sarah got in reply made a wicked smile curve her lips, and she found herself torn between the thought of bringing him to a quick, violent release… or tormenting him for hours, keeping her lover hovering just on the edge of maddening pleasure.

She wasn’t sure if Din would have any energy left by the time he let loose, but then, Sarah was eager to find out. Something in-between the two extremes would do.

So she settled herself languidly between his legs on the floor, and opted for a gentler approach as she lazily stroked him, letting him adjust to the sensation as his muscles contracted and he twitched beneath her.

“How long has it been since you came?” she asked conversationally. It was an undeniable turn-on to reduce Din, such a strong, powerful male, to a quivering mess of handsome, sweaty muscles with the light hold she had on his member.

The helmet lifted off the floor as if he wanted to look at her, and she smiled innocently at his blindfolded visor. On impulse, Sarah rose up onto her knees without letting go of his erection only so she could rip the fabric off of him, and he jerked as if startled.

Sarah wanted him to see her. She wanted him to see how she touched him, the expressions she made. She wanted this memory to be seared into his mind as vividly as possible, so he couldn’t forget her, couldn’t get her out of his head.

She raised a brow in the face of his stretching silence.

“Hours, days… Weeks?” Sarah guessed, then gently rolled her hand, damp from pre-cum, over the top of Din’s cock as he sucked in a hitching breath. She then slid her curled fist down the slick shaft as she settled herself back down as comfortably as she could on the hard floor.

“L-long time. Only… Only in dreams,” Din answered hoarsely, and Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. Admittedly, she hadn’t expected that from him. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and his version of gambling seemed to manifest only in the very dangerous lifestyle he lived, so some part of her had been thinking he would steal away for quiet moments to work out his stress in a more physical manner of release.

Then again, this was Din Djarin, and the man was nothing if not the epitome of a work-a-holic. It was both incredibly endearing and something of a power-trip to be allowed to handle him this way, and it gave her the warm fuzzies to go with her heady arousal.

“Have you seen me in your dreams?” Sarah asked curiously, then leaned forward to firmly lick a line up his cock before she covered the tip with her mouth and sucked as her hand slowly massaged his length.

The strangled noise he made before he let his head drop back down sent heat pooling down between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together.

“Yes,” he choked out raggedly, and audibly gasped for air.

Sarah’s toes curled as she imagined him jerking off to thoughts of her, and she wondered what he fantasized about, what he imagined doing to her, what he wanted her to do to him.

“I like that,” she admitted, then she took him as deep into her throat as she could get, with just a little room to spare in case his hips jerked beneath her, and increased the tempo. His back arched as he shuddered beneath her.

“W-wait, I’m too… too close,” Din gasped. _“Osik!”_

He growled out her name before he choked on his own voice, and Sarah felt his cock begin to pulse. Din’s hips bucked up into her hand and mouth and she grunted, then shifted her weight and encouraged him to continue with an approving hum. His body writhed on the floor beneath her as he struggled to stay put.

Din abruptly let out a half-muffled moan through probably clenched teeth, and it echoed in the room loud enough, even through his helmet, that Sarah had just enough presence of mind to briefly panic over if they might disturb the sleep of their child, which she _really_ didn’t want.

The errant thought of thinking of Grogu as _theirs_ made something instinctively maternal in her snap and twist in the best kind of ways, even as she relaxed at the confidence they were - just barely - still quiet enough to be safe.

Din’s hips thrust sharply upwards as his entire body shook, and his hands clawed at the cape spread out on the floor beneath him, fisting in the material as his muscles strained.

When gooey warmth exploded at the back of her mouth, Sarah granted Din the mercy of a slightly gentler hold as she coaxed him through the powerful orgasm. If the man hadn’t even touched himself in recent days - months, perhaps - then she could guess how intense this was for him.

Din’s head lifted up off the floor as he shoved himself up onto his elbows, sagging at the shoulders like it took effort to hold his own weight. Sarah slowly slipped his cock out of her mouth, then tipped her head to expose her throat to him, and deliberately swallowed.

His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then again.

“I like it when I render you speechless,” Sarah declared, then licked her lips and winked.

Din didn’t answer her, only collapsed back onto the ground with a wuffling, bone-weary sigh, and Sarah crawled up and over him to settle herself on his chest, and left her thighs to lazily straddle his waist. She folded her arms over his heart then rested her chin on them, and smiled smugly at Din.

She felt like a satisfied cat.

Hot, sweaty palms settled on her hips, just above her panty line, then traveled up the curve of her waist until he stopped at her upper ribs.

“So... how was that?” Sarah questioned, the first flicker of tiny, miniscule unease touching her mind through her bold euphoria. Even though she had every confidence she’d utterly rocked his world, she still wanted… confirmation. She didn’t like making complete assumptions.

His strangled reply was utterly unintelligible, and Sarah huffed daintily at him, amused. She waited patiently.

Eventually, Din finally found his voice.

“I do not have the words,” he began in a husky rumble, and Sarah was jostled when his chest heaved below her in a deep, heavy sigh, “To describe how _wonderful_ that was. Where have you been all my life?”

The uncustomary tenderness at the end of his words that softened Din’s rough voice made Sarah’s heart melt, and her smug smile turned into something… else. Something warm, something loving.

“If things work out between us… You just might get to keep me for the rest of it,” she suggested shyly. This heart-fluttering hesitance wasn’t something she was used to feeling, and she decided that she liked it, if only because it was provoked by the feelings Din Djarin invoked in her.

His right hand stroked a slow, firm path up her back, and Sarah closed her eyes as she sighed happily, then relaxed into the contact. She could happily fall asleep like this with him, if it weren’t for the cold air on her back.

Then all at once, Sarah was reminded of just how shockingly fast the man beneath her could move as Din abruptly flipped their positions. He moved her effortlessly, like she weighed _nothing,_ and in the span of a heartbeat, Sarah found herself underneath him with her back half on his cape, and the other half pressed to the cold floor as he hovered above her.

“Close your eyes,” Din ordered brusquely.

“A-aren’t you _tired?”_ she squeaked involuntarily, caught utterly off guard by this complete flip from a lazy, languid, post-bliss Din, to this one whose muscles rippled with raw strength as he caged her posessively within the frame of his body. One of his hands was still pressed hot against her ribs, and his other forearm laid flat against the ground with his knuckles curled partway against her neck. His knees now straddled either side of her thighs, and she could see her faint reflection in the dark visor as his helmet tilted down to look at her underneath him.

“Sarah.” Din said her name softly, almost reverently, and her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord as his knuckles brushed against her cheek.

“Keep them closed,” he reminded.

This time she was the speechless one as she only managed a short, jerky nod, still reeling from their sudden change of positions.

Sarah listened to the sounds of him moving, felt the slight shift of his inner legs against her as he leaned over her, and then cloth settled over her face and blocked out the faint glow of light she could see through her closed eyes. Din’s fingers carefully re-folded her chestwrap as he returned it to a slender blindfold, and she helpfully lifted her head so he could wrap it all the way around and tie it.

In the next instant, Sarah heard what was swiftly becoming her favorite sounds to hear, second only to his voice; the soft _twhsh_ of Din’s helmet sliding over hair as it was removed, and the quiet click as he set it aside somewhere nearby.

“Please tell me you’re going to kiss me,” Sarah half-begged, suddenly desperate to feel his face, to be one more step closer to him as she reached blindly for his chest somewhere above her.

Callused fingers wrapped firmly around each of her wrists, and Sarah sucked in a breath as Din slowly pinned her hands above her head, then shifted them both into a one-handed hold.

Words could not describe how incredibly turned on she was by this simple gesture and display of his power, and her body ached for more contact.

Sarah had half worried that he’d be shy and hesitant, or maybe nervous, about touching her. She’d thought she might have to encourage and coax him into putting his hands on her, to explore her body, to give into this intimate exchange of physical connection.

She needn’t have.

Din Djarin approached this like he seemed to approach everything else in life - directly head-on, and without wasting time beating around the bush.

Sarah jerked and gasped through barely parted lips when a hot hand settled firmly over the flat of her stomach, then Din’s fingers immediately slipped down into her panties as his teeth nipped at her throat in _just_ the spot she liked it. 

Sarah had just enough presence of mind to feel ridiculous about being surprised that he’d remembered.

Din was nothing if not observant. And… attentive.

His breath skated along her skin as he breathed in her scent, and she turned her head to give him better access to her throat.

“How do you want this?” Din asked quietly, his voice a husky growl beside Sarah’s ear as he trailed kisses along her jaw that did devastating things to her insides.

She didn’t realize she’d whimpered instead of using actual words until she heard his breathy chuckle ghost over the bare skin of her chest, and then his fingers were exploring the slick folds of her.

“R-right there,” Sarah gasped. “Rub that. Just like that.” She angled her hips to line his fingers up in a better spot.

Din’s touch was firm, but gentle.

Too gentle.

“Harder,” Sarah ordered.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” he growled in a dark, dangerous voice that Sarah had only heard a scant handful of times, and was mildly alarmed to realize she would _never_ be able to hear again without thinking of this exact moment. The only saving grace was the difference between when she’d heard him use it in savage fury, and now when he sounded amused, not furious.

That, and one other thing - there wasn’t a helmet modulating his words through a sound processor.

“I love your voice,” Sarah blurted, needing to hear it again, needing to feel the electric wildfire it sent shooting down to her core when he spoke to her like that. “K-keep talking. Tell me what you want to do to me, tell me what you’re feeling - anything,” she begged.

That gave him pause.

At least, she thought it did.

He released her wrists, only to slide his hand down her splinted arm until he cradled her head in one wide palm, and Sarah had just enough time to be confused before his mouth crushed against hers.

Din’s thick fingers rubbed lazy circles over her clit, and she didn’t even care that he was inexperienced. Just the fact he was touching her at all was nearly enough to send her over the edge, and Sarah moaned into his mouth.

He pulled away much too soon.

When he bowed his head to whisper in her ear, Sarah immediately forgave him.

“I want to _fuck_ you,” he rumbled bluntly. Sarah’s stomach flipped. “I want to hear you make these sounds--” she sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers pressed hard against her and increased the pace. “--for me. I want to learn just how you like it, how you need it,” he continued, and Sarah let her head loll to the side as he slid his middle finger down, down... 

He circled her entrance, exploring, his touch going from feverish and bold to curious and almost hesitant. Sarah whined against clenched teeth.

“Kriff, I could touch you like this for hours,” Din rumbled.

“Yes, _please,”_ Sarah begged. His breathy chuckle was short, brief, yet the soft sound hit something in her core that made electric ripples shoot down below Sarah’s stomach.

Then the thick digit slipped inside her, and she hissed as she arched her hips. He sank it in all the way to his knuckles, and she wondered how she’d never noticed how _long_ Din’s fingers were.

She loved his hands.

Din swore reverently.

“You’re _soaked,”_ he observed, and she thought maybe he sounded almost in awe. “Beautiful,” Din murmured. “Ravishing,” he added as he pressed kisses against her neck.

“Faster,” Sarah urged, needing more, needing everything. It didn’t take her long to realize he intended to learn what she liked through direct interaction, rather than verbal instruction. Din Djarin didn’t obey her command; instead, he curled his finger inside her and slowly rubbed his palm against the moist warmth of her mound as he tested the waters.

Sarah wanted to know where he found the patience and energy to maintain his composure as he calmly explored her body. His lips trailed a line down her neck, over her collarbone, then vanished altogether as Din drew back.

She stopped a half-begun protest when his breath skated over the curve of her right breast, then suddenly his lips plucked at the perky nipple, almost experimentally. His free hand came down to cup the lower curve of it, and he stroked a thumb firmly over the soft flesh.

A shudder rippled over Sarah’s body, and then Din’s mouth closed over it, and the hot pad of his tongue licked a firm line over the sensitive bud.

Sarah didn’t realize she’d curled her fingers in his hair until he grunted when she tugged a little too hard. She rocked her hips against his hand, and growled when he didn’t yield to a faster pace.

 _“Din,”_ she hissed, and glowered at him as best she could when she was both blindfolded, and deliriously high off the pleasure of his torturously slow touch. Sarah had taken care of her own needs a scant few times during her travels with him, with stolen moments in the Fresher when she was by herself, but nothing compared to the feeling of his hands on her, this intimate coupling.

Or the fact she could feel his arousal in the air around her, mingling with her own.

And his smugness.

It came as a bright, cutting flash of intensity she had come to associate with that emotion, not something she often felt from Din.

“I like it. When you say my name,” he admitted, then nibbled gently at her nipple with his teeth.

Sarah closed her mouth over a needy mewl that was _almost_ embarrassing. She knew from experience she wasn’t a quiet lover, but even so, this was... different.

She liked the way he made her feel.

Sarah lifted and turned her head until she felt his hair tickle against her lips.

“Din Djarin, if you don’t finger-fuck me as fast and as hard as you can right _now,_ I am never putting your cock in my mouth again,” she threatened.

She wasn’t prepared for him to _immediately_ remove himself from her entirely, save only for the press of his legs at the outside her thighs, and wondered briefly if she’d messed up, if she’d turned him off by her choice in words. Her breast felt _extra_ cold where the wetness stung in the cool air of the storage room, and the space between her legs was wretchedly empty and left wanting.

Then Din’s hands were at her hips and yanking her panties down to her knees without warning in two sharp jerks, and Sarah felt herself blush all the way from her head to her toes.

She felt one hand settle firmly on her hip, and it kept her pinned in place as Din’s other hand cupped her exposed heat.

First one finger, then two, and Sarah struggled to spread her legs to give him better access as he pushed them inside her as deep as he could get, the rest of his hand curled into a fist. The flat of Din’s knuckles pressed pleasantly against her clit and the folds of her labia, and she felt the way he rotated his wrist to get a more comfortable angle for himself.

“Tell me if it’s too hard,” he warned from higher above her. Sarah opened her mouth to quip that she could take it, that he didn’t need to be quite so cautious, but the words died in her throat as he began to move.

Scratch that.

Din Djarin didn’t just _begin_ to move.

One moment he was utterly still, and the next he was simply pure movement, and Sarah deliriously thought that he had - blessedly - taken her quite literally when she challenged him to pound her as hard and fast as possible. His knuckles slapped against her as he jerked his fingers in and out of her, and she rotated her hips so he was rubbing the callused pads of his fingers along her inner walls with full contact.

“P-perfect,” she gasped, “Just… Just like that,” Sarah clenched her jaw as her head fell back, and she no longer felt the cold floor beneath her or the sting of chilly air on bare skin. All she could feel was her lover’s touch as she listened to Din’s soft, labored breaths over the quiet squelching noises as he worked on her.

Sarah wasn’t close to a full-blown orgasm, but she could already feel the delicious crest of her first climax building, and then her muscles seized and contracted as the ripple of pleasure burst through her like a shot of electricity before it plateaued.

And he didn’t break pace all through it, just kept driving her pleasure higher, and higher, until Sarah’s toes curled and she struggled to keep quiet, to keep her hips still enough that she didn’t dislodge his hand.

 _Now_ she was close. Just a little more - she thrust up into his hand as she panted for breath, her hands braced with one on the forearm that pinned her down, and the other on his muscular thigh.

“Y-yes, just like… just like that. S-so close,” Sarah choked out.

Her world came to a jarring, screeching halt in the next instant when one moment, Din’s fingers were burying themselves inside her in a rocking roll of his wrist, and the next his hand had left her empty and wanting.

“W-wait, I’m not-- _Oh,”_ Sarah gasped as she felt Din change positions as he slid back on the ground, and he rolled her underwear down her legs completely. His hands, one of them damp from touching her, effortlessly spread her knees apart and lifted them up off the ground, and then he was crawling between her legs.

They rested over Din’s broad shoulders as he pressed kisses to the inside of her thighs, and trailed his mouth maddeningly closer to her core as Sarah’s back arched in anticipation.

Yes, she _definitely_ liked his direct approach to learning.

Especially when his hot breath skated over her quim, and his nose tickled the curly hair above her clit.

_Torturously. Slow._

That was how he started. Just a taste, barely even a lick, as Din’s lips brushed against her moist heat. Sarah heard the sound of him taking a deep breath to breathe in her scent. She felt his fingers come up to spread her slit open wider, felt the shrug of his shoulders as he rolled her knees farther apart with a casual shove of his weight, and Sarah nearly lost it right then.

“Hurry up,” Sarah ordered, and hoped maybe _this_ time he’d be obedient.

She kind of liked that he wasn’t.

“What’s your rush?” he drawled in a husky rumble, and Sarah sucked in a breath as he pressed a slow, firm kiss against her clit. “We’ve got time.”

Sarah had no answer to that. Instead, she curled her fingers in his hair, and heaved a deep sigh of content mingled with pent-up excitement.

“I like fast,” she finally said. She _also_ liked slow, but right now, she liked this play of banter, this push-and-pull of power like it was almost a competition between them who maintained control.

“I’m enjoying this,” Din answered, almost like it was a dismissal, and Sarah’s brows furrowed. There was… something in his voice that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, and she turned her attention to him completely as she tried to focus on what his mood was.

Curious, focused, aroused. All normal things.

Yet there was something else, something more profound. It rolled in the air around her, translated through the intensity of his very touch as he purposefully licked her, sent electric sparks shooting through her, and made her squirm.

“What are you enjoying about it? Making me shudder with want and beg for you?” Sarah teased, her breathless voice cracking at the end when he interrupted her by plunging his tongue deep into her heat, before he then dragged it up her slit. Din lingered, then did it again, and Sarah’s body jolted and twitched when he found a particularly sensitive spot.

He noticed.

“Here?” Din murmured, then pressed his mouth against her. Sarah groaned deep in her throat as she arched her back.

_“Yes.”_

He continued like that, lazily exploring her, and Sarah reflected that she had landed herself the most perfect lover she could ever have hoped for, in so many ways, in seemingly _every_ way.

Admittedly, she’d been a little nervous that they might not… be compatible, in the bedroom department. It was always such a hit or miss. Din was _definitely_ a hit. Right in the bulls-eye, dead-center.

As his tongue swirled over the sensitive bead of her clitorus and he slipped a finger inside of her, Sarah choked out an honest praise of his thorough investigation… and his use of what he learned.

He was still a quick study.

“Y-you didn’t answer,” she said breathlessly, minutes or hours or who even fucking _knew_ how long later, she sure didn’t. Sarah floated somewhere between dazedly relaxed and boneless, and utterly wound up and excited as Din slowly ate her out. “Wh-what about this… Do you like?”

It was several moments before he replied, and she _almost_ hated that he had to remove his mouth from her to speak. He made up for it by rubbing the knuckle of his index finger over her as his middle finger curled inside her.

“Seeing you like this,” he admitted softly. After a moment, he yielded a more completely honest answer, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t quite certain himself. His rough voice softened at the edges when he spoke. “Your taste. Your scent. Kissing you there or here, it’s… Closer,” he finished.

Sarah’s eyes widened beneath her blindfold in understanding.

She couldn’t fathom how drastic this must be for him, someone who lived his life behind a shield of metal and electronic components.

Sarah opened her mouth to voice another question, and had to hastily clamp it shut as he drew a strangled moan up her throat that ended in a high pitched whine as his fingers found _just_ the right spot inside her. Her hips involuntarily bucked up into his hand as she jerked on the ground.

Din went utterly still except for what she could hear of his soft, accelerated breaths, and Sarah clenched her eyes as she panted to find her voice to instruct him - and found she didn’t need to.

He moved his finger again, probing, searching, and when he found the spot again, her body jerked.

“R-right there,” she said unnecessarily.

“Use my name,” he ordered brusquely.

“Din Djarin, I’ll say whatever you want so long as you don’t stop working those magic fingers,” Sarah replied breathlessly.

“That’s a dangerous deal,” he answered with a pleased rumble, and Sarah gasped his name again as he closed his mouth over her, then began pounding his fingers against the spot inside her as he kept them curled at just the right angle.

He didn’t hit it every time, but he got it regularly enough that it wasn’t long before Sarah started to writhe beneath him, and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her own sounds.

Din shifted his weight, and his mouth and the hand pinning her hips down left her. Sarah didn’t have the presence of mind to complain, not when his fingers felt so good inside her.

And especially not when she recognized the distinctive, fast-paced slid of skin-on-skin that wasn’t in time with her own needy movements.

As an image of Din desperately jerking off between her legs flashed across her mind, Sarah lost it right then and there as she cried out against her palm.

Stars, she loved this man.

And blast his stupid helmet, because she’d love to take a shower together instead of apart after the sweaty mess they’d made of each other as he let go of her, and she heard his strangled grunt.

Something warm and wet splashed against her inner thigh, and Sarah’s over-sensitized insides clenched. He almost sent her right back over the edge.

“I’m keeping you, Din,” she declared breathlessly as she collapsed against the ground, and basked in the afterglow. “This is the best fuck without fucking I’ve ever had.”

She meant it, too. And she was certain it had less to do with how absolutely _wonderful_ she felt, tingling from her scalp to her toes, and everything to do with the man who had made her feel this way.

Din leaned forward and crawled over her as Sarah’s knees slid off his shoulders, and she hummed appreciatively, liking where this was heading.

“Minx,” he accused quietly, and his hand was already slithering back between her legs as Din’s lips found hers. His tongue plunged inside her open mouth, insatiable, and Sarah tasted herself on him as she angled her head into his ravenous kiss, and wrapped her arms around him.


End file.
